


Autumn Light, Winter Rain

by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drunkenness, F/F, Flirting, Getting Together, Post-Hogwarts, Professors, Strap-Ons, Time Travel, Time Turner, Tribadism, an actual plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks
Summary: Some moments, even small ones, are worth risking everything for.





	Autumn Light, Winter Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firethesound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound/gifts).



> Holy crap, well, this came about because I decided to do this Tumblr meme thing where I asked people to leave me made-up titles, and then I would describe the fic I would write for it. Turns out though that I can’t get an idea for a fic and then just talk about it; I have to go ahead and write it. This is the fic that came from firethesound's title suggestion of “Autumn Light and Winter Rain”, which I adjusted only very slightly. I seriously don’t know where this came from exactly. I don’t do plot ffs. And speaking of, thanks SO MUCH to both RuinsPlume and sdk for the fantastic beta notes on how to make this less confusing. Shelly really, _really_ helped me figure out a way that it could work to its best ability, but as with all stories within this trope, you sort of can’t examine it _too_ closely anyway or it could fall a bit apart. Any remaining mistakes or weirdnesses are entirely my own because RP and Shelly are both genius betas! Thank you both so much!  <3 And thank you, FTS, so so much for the title and your patience in getting a response to your Ask. ;) :)

Light tumbled through the leaves and onto her shoulders as Pansy sat beneath the towering oak near the shore of the Black Lake. She stopped twirling her quill long enough to mark Olivia Nott’s Astronomy parchment with an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ and then set it down in the marked pile. With a sigh, she picked up Nathan Thomas’ essay, the last of the afternoon. 

That was the moment Granger stormed up. "What is this?"

Pansy looked up, eyes wide and then squinting at the scrap of parchment pinched between Granger's fingers.

"Parchment?"

"Very funny. How did you even know I'd be reading that book today?"

"Reading what book?" Pansy's mind felt a bit like a plate of scrambled eggs. She must have marked too many papers and gone a bit barmy from it. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t an entirely foreign feeling around Granger.

Granger scoffed as though Pansy was putting her on. "If you wanted to get a drink tonight, you could have found me and asked."

"What?" 

"Parkinson, please. We're professors now. I thought we'd…" She stopped, and the ferocity of her approach fell away quite unexpectedly. She blinked and looked down. "I guess I thought you knew we could… you know, talk. And things." Her cheeks bloomed pink.

"...get a drink tonight…" Pansy heard herself muse aloud, still trying to make sense of the conversation thus far and not become too distracted by the pretty blushing that Granger was doing.

"The Three Broomsticks works for me," said Granger. "I'll meet you at the front gate at seven o'clock."

"Uh… sure."

Granger nodded, a brisk, decisive thing. "Great. I'll see you tonight." And then she turned around and swept away through fallen leaves.

Pansy stared after her, uncertain what the bloody hell had just happened, but pretty sure that whatever it was… it had gotten her a date.

~

She and Granger closed down the Three Broomsticks that night, splitting a bottle of wine, a late meal, and then ending on a couple Firewhiskies for good measure. Pansy couldn't remember when she'd had such a good time, relaxed so much… when she'd last forgotten about the past and how it seemed to cling to her robes and follow her around like a poisonous fog.

She hadn't worn robes and neither had Granger, and it had been all Pansy could do to keep her gaze from descending toward the V of Granger's blouse. She'd never seen Granger in a shirt that plunged between her breasts like that, and though the conversation was lively... well, so was Pansy's starved libido.

She wondered, though, if she might have mistaken the evening for an actual date. Mixed signals and all. But Granger put those fears to rest as they approached the gates near midnight.

"Shhh," Granger cautioned through her own laughter. "I don't want to get expelled."

"Granger," Pansy reminded her. "You're the _teacher._ "

"Pfffff!" Granger exploded in mirth—and then promptly shushed Pansy again as though it had come from her instead.

The desire to grip Granger close and kiss her lips open came on rather forcefully… an ache to turn her laughter to an aroused gasp. But bearing in mind their inebriated states, Pansy thought it best not to indulge that craving.

Still. Granger came close. Quite close. Her laughter died. "Thank you for tonight," she said, hands gripping the lapels of Pansy's coat. She looked into Pansy's eyes, blinked down to her lips, groaned, and said, "Next time I won't drink so much, and you won't have to feel you're taking advantage if you kiss me."

Then she left Pansy standing there outside the gates, stunned, watching as she primly stumbled her way across the courtyard: a woman Pansy would someday soon get to kiss.

~

That next week was busy for both of them, between teaching, marking, managing student excitement around the start of Quidditch, etc. Yet Granger sat next to her for meals in the Great Hall. They took tea together in the staff room where their discussions transcended swapped stories about students and turned, instead, personal. 

They shared looks across a crowded stairway, looks that went on too long and made lascivious promises. 

It was lovely, the anticipation for their next date so heightened, that even when she thought to ask about the strange encounter that started it all—the scrap of parchment and the nonsensical conversation—Pansy decided it probably wasn't worth it. She certainly didn't want Granger becoming offended that she still hadn't worked it out on her own. Best she could figure was that someone _else_ had left a note for Granger asking her out, and Granger had mistaken it for Pansy. Although how that could be was a mystery. Still, it was one she was content to leave unsolved. She'd suffer through the benefits of someone else's failed overture. She was a Slytherin after all.

It was after their second actual date when, at the door to Pansy's rooms down in the castle dungeons, Granger—not tipsy in the least—pulled Pansy close by the hips, backed her against her own door, and fucking _kissed_ her. 

And it was no first-date kiss. It was a worth-waiting-for kiss if Pansy had ever had one. 

Granger's lips, nearing hers, murmured, "C'mere," and then Pansy's lips were opening, and Granger lapped slow into her willing mouth, thigh fit between Pansy's legs, nudging her already short skirt up her thighs.

Granger's hand ascended her ribs and cupped Pansy's breast through the admittedly slag-flimsy shirt she'd chosen for the evening, and Pansy's knees gave out when Granger's thumb brushed over her nipple. Her skirt rode up higher as she sank down, already-throbbing clit pressed hard into Granger's leg.

She was panting when it ended. Granger's eyes, when she drew back, were glassy, her hand remaining on Pansy's waist.

"I, uh… I wuh…" Pansy shook her head slightly as though fighting off a Confundus.

Granger smiled and backed up a little. Pansy's body _ached_ for all that glorious pressure and friction and warmth to return.

"There's someplace I'd like to take you next weekend," Granger said. Her hair was mussed, and Pansy recollected that she'd had her hand in it, holding tight while they made out like sixth years.

"Sure," Pansy said in a happy daze.

Then Granger took her leave, and Pansy stumbled into her own rooms, pressing her back to her closed door and flipping her skirt up to get a hand inside her knickers right then and there.

~

The 'someplace' turned out to be a dyke bar, fit into a squash of brick buildings in a Muggle neighbourhood. Smoke seemed to cling to the walls, and yet it smelled distinctly of cinnamon and thyme. 

They sat at the bar, and Granger's hand smoothed up Pansy's leg. Trousers this time. Not slutty in the least. Except for the way her thighs parted at the mere suggestion of a salacious touch.

"Order for me?" Granger asked in what seemed a bit of a rare display of forgoing control.

Pansy smiled and held up two fingers to call over the bartender.

"Vodka on ice," Granger mused. "Simple. Straightforward."

"Boring?"

Granger smirked. "Hardly." She sipped, and Pansy fell hardcore in lust with the simple parting of her burgundy lips. 

Two drinks and some conversation and then they were up dancing. Close. No air between their bodies. Pansy's mouth against Granger's hot neck, a gasp forced from Granger's throat at the feel of careful teeth.

Smooth, drowsy music played as the bar filled with raucous women, demure women, women in leather and boots and spikes and women in pink chiffon. Women in jeans and jumpers, suits, hardly anything, women laughing, deep in conversation, kissing, coming onto one another….

“Let’s go,” Granger whispered against her cheek after countless songs. 

Pansy’s ears rang in the cold quiet outside in the street. Granger pulled her close and Side-Alonged.

They got back to the castle late. Rumples, Granger's little spy of a house-elf, reported back that her Gryffindors were all accounted for and not messing about too much. Pansy, relieved _not_ to be Head of House, harboured no doubt Draco had his Slytherin hands quite full.

She knew what _her_ hands wanted to be full of. But she didn't want to presume.

"I had a lovely evening," Pansy said to her up in the tower, almost to Granger’s door.

Granger turned with a smile. "Oh really? I'm still having one."

She jerked Pansy in by her coat, and, mouths hot and hard, they fumbled their way into the room.

Granger’s wand arm struck out mid-kiss, and flames leapt to life in the fireplace. A push from Granger's hands, and Pansy fell onto her back on the bed. Granger's knees bracketed her hips, hands stripping off her own dress until Pansy had her eyes full of skin and black silk, Granger’s tits nearly spilling from her bra. She shoved Pansy's hand between her legs and began to rock.

"Fuck," Pansy breathed at finding her already so very wet.

"Yessss," Granger answered. She gave a little moan as she rolled off Pansy’s lap. But she hauled open a drawer and looked at Pansy with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and...

Merlin, her bedside table was _stocked_. 

At Granger’s look, Pansy gave a ready nod and quickly donned a medium-sized strap-on, shimmying it on over her trousers to save time. Apparently it was a good look as Granger exhaled a soft mewling sound, slithering her knickers off.

Granger straddled her again and let out a sigh as Pansy’s fingers dipped once more between her legs, drawing her wetness up from her cunt. Pansy began circling her clit, and Granger went wild for it in her lap. Reaching up with her free hand to flick down Granger’s bra strap, Pansy revealed the transfixing sway of her naked breast. She heard herself growl before she flipped them, sending Granger to her back. She spent an indulgent moment sucking Granger’s nipple into her mouth. Then she cradled the cock in her hand, whispered a charm, and set it to vibrating.

"Oh bloody hell," Granger laughed a little. And then it was slipping inside her, and she panted out her breaths as Pansy pushed it in.

Bracing over her, Pansy fucked smooth and easy. Granger's legs came around her waist and she undulated, blinking up, her riotous hair fanned out across the pillow.

Pansy fucked her faster, sharper, until she was breathing heavily and Granger was keening.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Pansy said. 

She hadn't meant to say anything. The words tumbled from her lips, and she saw them register in Granger's eyes, heard them in the hitch of her breath. 

"I want to make you come," Pansy murmured. But want was too vague a word for the feeling that coursed through her; making Granger come had quickly become her mission in life.

Granger arched under her, and Pansy licked up her throat, sinking a hand in between their bodies. She rubbed quick and wet on Granger's clit, and, breathless moments later, Granger came, loud as a banshee, clutching Pansy's arms, her back, as she rode it out.

Still panting, Pansy pulled out. She stripped, trousers and strap-on flung to the floor in one big heap. Granger rolled her to her back, her hair a wild sort of magic about her flushed face.

“Bloody hell, I’m really glad you asked me out,” she said breathlessly.

“Um, yeah,” Pansy said and then groaned as Granger ripped her shirt open, mouthing the side of her breast and then nudging beneath. Pansy’s body screamed for more touch, more heat, more all of it, more _her_. She let go of thinking entirely when Granger kissed down her stomach, when she dipped her head between Pansy's parting thighs and promptly Reducto'd the night all around her.

 

It was that soft time, before dawn, and Pansy couldn’t stop thinking about it. Granger got up to go to the loo, and when she returned, Pansy blurted before she could stop herself, “May I see the note?”

“What?” Granger gave her a bemused smile as she crawled back into bed.

“The, uh, the note. The one I wrote you.” Pansy’s throat constricted on the falsehood, and her heart hammered against her breastbone.

Granger frowned even as she remained smiling, like Pansy was an oddity but a rather amusing one. She Summoned her wand and then used it to Summon the note itself, handing it over to Pansy.

 _Meet for drinks?_ it read innocuously. And then beneath the question: _~P._

Pansy tried to keep her face blank as she looked at her own handwriting, the stupid flare to the bottom of the letter ‘P’ that she’d adopted as a self-involved fourth year who felt entitled to a flourish.

“Yeah, okay,” Pansy sighed nonchalantly, handing the note back over.

Granger hesitated, losing a little of her smile to the deepening of her frown. But then she took the scrap of parchment back and looked at it herself briefly before she set it aside. “Why did you…?”

Pansy shrugged. “Just… couldn’t remember how I’d signed it.”

Granger nodded, her hair falling into her face. Pansy reached up and pushed it back. Her gaze dipped to follow the graceful line of Granger’s throat, the little quivering of pulse… and then further down. The swell and curve of her bare breasts, the way they looked heavier in the dull shadows of the late night. Pansy absently licked her lips.

A small huff of a laugh, and Pansy’s gaze lifted once more to find Granger’s eyes now sparkling. “Like what you see then?”

Pansy pushed her back onto the bed—and showed her how much.

~

_Three Months Later_

It was the kind of rain that neared sleet, so cold and shocking. Pansy stood well out of the way of it, beneath the Astronomy tower’s cover. Her evening classes' practical applications had been cancelled due to the weather, and so Pansy had assigned library time instead. Pansy herself had decided to stay and enjoy the view regardless. One of the house-elves had been so kind as to bring her a mulled wine, and she stood sipping and watching the rain batter the trunks of trees, the hard ground, obliterating the sky to a grey blur.

Still, she was early returning to their rooms, and though Hermione was absent, the feeling of her magic lingered, as though she’d only just been there.

Pansy sighed, removing her cloak and hanging it on a peg. She started a fire in the hearth and kicked off her shoes with a groan. Dinner would be soon, but she considered instead just taking a bowl of soup and some warm bread in her favourite chair by the fire. She longed for the soothing sound of silence and rain rather than the incessant chatter of a Great Hall full of children.

In fact… Lovegood had brought them by some sweet smelling herbs from her personal garden, and it would be so lovely to throw a bit on the fire… to fill the room with the scent of autumn turning to winter as she sank into a good book. Pansy began rooting around in the tinder box, finding it empty of herbs. She stood and checked the mantle and then moved on to the little decorative jar on the bookcase, thinking she’d need to see if Hermione could speak to her friend about replenishing their stores.

Pansy frowned as she opened the lid to the jar, finding no fragrant herbs. She did a double-take, though, at the glint of gold that met her eye. She frowned, tilting the jar a bit so that the trinket fell against the side. Then she gasped, recognition dawning.

Merlin, it was a Time Turner. She reached into the jar and grasped it gently, pulling it free with caution, as though one wrong move might send her to 1939.

Guiltily—though she knew there was no reason for the feeling or her furtiveness—she glanced around herself. When she looked down again, she saw a note at the bottom of the jar as well, pulling it out and reading with wide eyes:

_Leave September 12th, before 3pm. Page 237 of The Arithmancy of Runes._

Pansy gaped at the instructions, even as her fingers moved over the too-thick parchment. There was a smaller piece affixed to it, and she peeled it away and frowned at the familiar words:

_Meet for drinks?_

_~P._

Pansy’s eyes widened.

_”What is this?”_

_“Parchment?”_

_“Very funny.”_

Their voices echoed through her mind like an eroded dream. September twelfth was indeed the day Granger had stormed up to Pansy with that… 

Note.

“Merlin,” Pansy breathed. 

She heard a scraping at the door and nearly fumbled the Time Turner right out of her hands, catching it awkwardly with a rush of breath. “Shit,” she hissed as the scratching became more pronounced. Eyes darting over the room, she thought fast. Quickly, she deposited the Time Turner, instructions, and note back inside the jar where she’d found them. She had to make three tries at getting the lid back on the bloody thing. 

When an ominous thudding sound came from the door, she wiped her damp palms on her clothes and made her way over.

“Well, for Salazar’s—” She bent and picked up Hermione’s Kneazle, Gertrude Stein. “What are you doing out here? Come inside, you pest.”

Her heart still pounded at her ribcage as she stood stroking the Kneazle’s fur for a few minutes to get herself under control.

She’d never used a Time Turner. She didn’t know anyone who _had_. They were still all kinds of illegal. She was more than mildly shocked that Hermione maybe… possibly... wanted her to make use of it. And possibly… maybe… Pansy _had_ made use of it already. In the future at least. Or something. Pansy didn’t pretend to understand messing with time—which was only one of the many reasons she felt her skin crawl at the idea that Hermione had seemingly left instructions for her to do just that.

Pansy blinked, staring at nothing as the realisation struck that they might never have gone out on that first date at all had she not… But she couldn’t. She _wouldn’t_. Despite being a card-carrying Slytherin for life, going back in time didn’t seem like a thing Pansy would consider doing. But perhaps she had. Evidently, even.

Gertrude Stein became less than enamoured of being held and squirmed violently, giving Pansy a scratch in the process. Pansy released the animal to its thunky, sure-footed landing and stood there absently rubbing the tiny red welt that rose on her arm.

Maybe she’d just leave the bloody thing in the jar for now. If it was hers to deposit, surely it didn’t matter when. Surely, whenever she chose would be adequate. Maybe this would seem like a much better idea at some future date. Preferably after she studied how to use a fucking Time Turner.

Maybe she would take her supper in the Great Hall after all. She didn’t fancy being in the same room with that thing a moment more.

Pulling her boots back onto her sore feet, Pansy fled her own rooms in a hurry.

~

In a few days, it didn't seem so frightening or even real. Hermione hadn't mentioned it, and they'd gone about their lives. It was much more pressing that two of Pansy's favourite fifth years were struggling to maintain Acceptables. Much more dire that Hermione had brought up meeting her parents over the holidays—which not only meant Muggle air travel to a country she'd never been to, but bloody _meeting Hermione's Muggle parents_. Who apparently fucking tortured people for a living! At least that's the way it sounded.

All of this took precedence. As did the increased blood flow to a certain region inside Pansy's chest.

"Love," Draco sneered at her one night over red currant rum in his quarters. It was his own batch, stirred meticulously in a gold cauldron, he was only too proud to inform her as he'd poured two tumblers at his drinks cabinet. (Harry, in the corner of the room reading a Quidditch magazine, had rolled his eyes.)

He now scalded Draco with a pointed stare for the sneer.

"What, it's true!" Draco defended himself, glaring back before flicking at him with a supercilious hand. "Nobody asked you."

Harry scoffed and flipped a magazine page, tossing one long leg over the arm of his chair before casting a lazy privacy charm between them.

"Harry _is_ her friend," Pansy said. "I mean, it might not hurt to get his views."

"It would hurt _me_ ,” Draco groused.

Pansy sighed, shook her head, took a healthy sip of her drink and then said, "Well, so what if I do? Love her," she finished, nearly choking on the words.

"So nothing." Draco shrugged. He gestured rather disgustedly between himself and Harry. "You know _this_ happens. She'll just… _be_ there, breathing and talking about Runes or whatever it is Granger talks about. I just really hope the sex is good." He sighed dramatically and looked off into the distance at nothing. He'd begun playing with a piece of his hair near his neck, and that's when Pansy noticed the lip-sized red bruise nearby beneath his right ear.

"Draco."

"Hmm?"

"But how do you manage it? With a _Gryffindor?_ "

His lips twitched. "Did you not hear what I just said about the sex?"

She blushed—something she probably never would have done in their own school years. Salazar, she'd gone soft. And maybe that was the answer right there. Maybe Hermione wasn't going to change; maybe Pansy already had. Ugh.

"Well the hat did almost Sort Harry into Slytherin, you know." Draco swirled his rum and it sparkled against the inside of the glass enthusiastically.

"Huh." Pansy turned to look at the Saviour, slouched into a chair, his entirely-still-too-childish glasses a bit crooked on his reposed-hero face. You wouldn't know he was the Chosen One by looking at him, that was certain. Wouldn't know he was Seeker for the national team either, scruffy layabout that he was.

"Granger should have been put into Ravenclaw," Pansy ruminated absently.

"You think?" Draco asked. "I always got a bit of a Slytherin vibe off her too. Don't tell her I said that. I wouldn't want her to think I thought she was cool or anything."

"Shut it, she is cool."

"She punched me in the face."

"Like I said, cool."

Draco launched a throw pillow in her direction.

They moved on to other topics, but the rest of the evening, she couldn't help thinking of it: Hermione, a Slytherin.

She said goodnight to Draco with a wave at Harry and then walked back to their rooms thinking of it.

Hermione Granger. A closeted Slytherin. Pansy felt her lips quirk up. But something inside her felt… off.

She fell asleep that night curled around her lover, heart beating against her back. Pansy dreamed of flying in a metal tube over an ocean. And then suddenly, they just disappeared into the clouds.

~

_Ten Months Later_

Golden light slanted through the bevelled glass, splintering into prismatic colour. "Do I look alright?" Pansy called, spritzing on perfume before she walked briskly into the living room. Merlin, they'd be late for Ginny and Blaise's wedding if they didn't get a move on. That last minute shag in the shower probably hadn't been the wisest idea.

But really, fuck being wise if it got her back-to-back orgasms.

"Well, dear, I wouldn't know as I'm in a different room entirely," Hermione called back from inside the walk-in closet, "but I'm sure, based on plenty of past experience looking at you that you do indeed look alright."

Pansy snorted and reached up to her ear to tighten the fastening of— "Bloody hell," she muttered. "Have you seen…?" She stopped.

"Have I seen what?" Hermione shouted back.

"Er, nothing!" Pansy bit her lip. She better not have lost those earrings as they were a Valentine's day gift from Hermione herself. "Nothing," she said again as she frantically began a search for them. She looked in the bathroom, covertly skirted Hermione's getting-ready routine to check the dresser, the nightstands…. She returned to the living room and overturned couch cushions. She looked behind books on the bookshelves, beginning to perspire with anxiety. She opened the lid of that stupid decorative jar—

To find it…

Empty.

It was only in actually seeing its emptiness that she remembered what she'd left there so many months ago now. The Time Turner. The parchment. 

And they were gone. 

She gulped.

Hermione arrived in the living room with a smirk on her face and Pansy's glittering diamond teardrop earrings dangling from her fingers. When she saw Pansy with the jar lid in her hand, she stilled. Her smirk faded, and she swallowed. "Oh," she said softly.

"They're gone," Pansy said. "I didn't move them."

"I know you didn't."

"You know I didn't," Pansy echoed.

Hermione took two steps toward her but hesitated. She gave a small, apologetic smile. "I had assumed it was you at first. But…"

"But?" Pansy’s heart thundered inside her chest. 

Hermione approached then, tucking a bit of Pansy's hair back gently. "Did I ever tell you the story of how Harry and I saved Sirius Black third year?"

Pansy mutely shook her head.

"Well, it's rather a long story. There's a lot of time stuff involved. Harry saved himself and Sirius from the Dementors by casting a full corporeal Patronus. Even though he'd thought it was his deceased father who had cast it. But it was Harry. And when he realised it was him, well…"

"Wait, what?" Pansy gave a small frowning laugh. Scrambled eggs, all over again.

Hermione stepped even closer, her hand fitting to Pansy's waist, warm and safe. She gazed into Pansy's eyes, her own glittering with unshed tears, her smile tremulous. "I've known your handwriting for a long time now," she said.

"Wh… What does that have to do…?"

"It's how I realised that it had been me all along." She gave a short laugh. “That and you just looked so gobsmacked at seeing your own bloody note for the first time. I swear, Pansy, for a Slytherin, you’re an atrocious liar.”

Pansy simply blinked at her. Hermione sobered, giving a little shrug. 

And Pansy registered that Hermione was fearful of her response to all this.

'This' being that Hermione had…

_Merlin._

"You used the Time Turner," Pansy breathed.

“I didn’t mean for you to find it in the jar.”

“But… the instructions…?”

“I left them for myself. Just to make sure I went back on the proper day and such. I had to find the right time to go so that you wouldn’t see me leave from here and so that I wouldn’t see myself back then…” She gave a tired sigh. “You’ve never shown any interest in that ugly bloody jar.”

“You think it’s ugly too?”

Hermione gave a soft, amused snort.

Pansy swallowed against the rapid fluttering of her pulse in her throat. "Why do you look scared?" she asked.

"Because you look shocked. As you have a right to be."

"Well, it's just… So, this wasn't the first time you used a Time Turner? Do you do this a lot or something?" 

"Merlin no. Not since third year. It took me forever just to find a Time Turner to use at all this time." She searched Pansy's face. "Are you… alright? I mean… can you… forgive me?"

Pansy started at that. "Forgive you? For going back in time to make sure we got a first date?"

"I suppose so, yes."

Pansy huffed a laugh. "Granger…" she said. And truly she'd meant to follow it with more words. Probably important words. Words like, ‘No one’s ever changed _time_ to be with me before.’ But instead she found herself leaning down, capturing Hermione's lips under her own, and kissing her until neither one of them could breathe.

She wrapped her arms around Hermione's body and dragged her in. Hermione let out a relieved little moan into her mouth.

They were late for the wedding.

~

_Two Months Later_

Rain lashed the windows. Pansy's body, slick with sweat, lay against Hermione, on top of her. Everywhere there was skin against skin. Everywhere there was warmth. Pansy's breasts hung for a moment before Hermione took them in her hands. Pansy rocked slowly between her thighs. So slowly she wanted to cry with how good it was, her cunt seizing with pleasure, Hermione's slick clit pressing against her, body tremoring with it.

Hermione dropped her hands to Pansy's lower back, smoothing up and back down, slipping to cup her arse. Pansy's breasts smushed into Hermione's, agonisingly intimate. Her breaths came out on small shudders as another wave took her. Hermione's legs clamped around the backs of her thighs, her body striving for more of her own climax.

"You're everything," Pansy whispered to her.

Hermione's warm brown eyes blinked up at her. 

"Everything," Pansy repeated.

She anchored her arms beneath Hermione's back and held her close as their bodies moved with one another, slowly slipping into the night.

The rain lashed the windows. And time moved on.


End file.
